[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

The Raving

Once inside my scullery, musty,
Buried dishes, green, and crusty,
In the sudsy sepulcher,
Before the kitchen maid, Lenore;
In the middle of her washing,
Suddenly there came a smashing,
As if some maid insanely crashing,
Crashing through my chamber door -
Quothing, raving, "Nevermore!"